Release Blitz + Excerpt + 5 Star Review: Stripped Bare by Emma Hart – Stripped Series – Book 1

 

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Stripped Bare
Stripped Series – Book 1
 
By Emma Hart

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AU | Amazon CA | Barnes & Noble | iBooks

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Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000037_00035]What do you get when you mix a bottle of tequila, a single mom moonlighting as a stripper, and her sinfully sexy boss with an impulsive side?

Married. You get married.

Rich. Demanding. Hot. Crazy.

That was Beckett Cruz in a nutshell.

Not to mention wild, determined, dangerous, and forbidden.

He was my boss—and, after a drunken moment of insanity, my new husband.

An annulment was impossible… so was keeping him.

I was taking my daughter and leaving, determined to give her a quieter life.

But Beckett Cruz had never taken no for an answer.

And he wasn’t about to take mine.

What happens in Vegas… might just keep you there.

 

 

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AU | Amazon CA | Barnes & Noble | iBooks

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EXCERPT

“Beck?” I managed to get his name out just before he opened the front door.

“Yeah?” He spun back to face me, his dark eyes unreadable.

I turned my face to the side so I could see him fully. “You don’t have to go,” I said softly. “You can stay. Only if you want to though.”

He rubbed his hand down his face, his eyes never leaving mine, then walked back into the kitchen toward me. I stood up away from the fridge as he stopped right next to me.

Slowly, he touched his hand to my face, his fingertips teasing my hairline. His dark gaze searched mine, and my heart jumped into my throat as the usual tingles his touch sparked danced down my neck. Then, he slid his hand into my hair, allowing the blonde strands to fall away from his fingertips.

“Do I want to go home to my big-ass house with its cold emptiness?” he asked in a low voice. “Or go to the club where half the girls there still see me as a mountain to be conquered? Not particularly, Blondie. I’d rather stay here. Even if there will be a demand for movies and water and foot rubs from a tiny, sick person.”

“You can.” My voice was quiet, like his. Even if my internal screams from self-preservation and vulnerability were deafeningly loud as they told me I was a fool, that he had

to go, that this would never be enough for him.

“Do you want me to?” His question was… honest.

Raw.

Hesitant.

Like he didn’t want me to answer.

“Do I want you to stay here in my tiny house so my daughter can fall more in love with you than she already is? Not really. But…” Don’t be a fool, Cassie. Don’t admit you want him to stay. He’s just going to hurt you. “I don’t exactly want you to go either.”

“For her, or for you?”

“I don’t want to answer that question.”

“If I kissed you right now, would you ram your knee into my cock?”

“I’d briefly consider it, but I probably wouldn’t do it.”

His lips twitched to the side. “You just answered the question.”

Then, of course, he cupped the back of my head, and he kissed me. It was slow, sweet, gentle. And I didn’t consider kneeing him in the balls for a single second.

Beck pulled back and trailed his hand down my arm before he finally let me go. “I’m going home to get changed and then come back. Do you need anything while I’m gone? For CiCi? You?”

“I don’t…” I sighed and chewed back my pride. “I meant to go to the store today after work to get some stuff like bread, milk… important stuff. But now I can’t.”

“I can get it. Just tell me what you need.”

I bit the inside of my lip, then nodded. “Okay. Let me write it down.” I walked through into the front room with him hot on my heels and grabbed the notebook and pen from under the coffee table. A few things were already scrawled down, so I added a couple more things, including more medicine. I tore the sheet off the notebook, stood, then gave it to Beck. “Let me get my wallet.”

He grabbed my wrist, stopping me. “I’m not taking your money.”

I lifted my gaze to his. “You can’t pay for my groceries.”

“I can and I will.”

“You can’t and you won’t.”

“I can and I will.”

“You can’t and you won’t.”

“I can do this all day, baby. I’m stubborn as fuck.” His eyes told me he wasn’t lying. “And we all know I’m a brat about the word no. So, I can, I will, and I’m going to. If I can’t help you by buying a measly eight items, I’m an asshole who shouldn’t be allowed around other people.”

“You can’t buy my groceries,” I repeated. It was a lame argument. I was going to lose, but I’d fight until I went down.

Beck’s eyes twinkled as he leaned in. “Don’t worry. If you really want to pay me back, I’ll take a blow job. I imagine your lips around my cock will be a pretty good thank you.”

My jaw dropped as he backed off with a wink.

“Mouth open already, Cassie? Enthusiasm. I like that.”

I snapped my jaw shut and glared at him. “You’re a dirty pig.”

“I know. But I’ve got fifty bucks that says you’ll be sucking my dick by bedtime. If you don’t agree…” He shrugged one shoulder, his lips curved in that dangerous smirk.

“If you’re lucky, I’ll bite it.”

“I’ll take that as I’m in for a good time.”

One more wink, complete with expanding grin, and he was gone.

Motherfucking asshole.

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 5StarTracey’s Review

Life is a funny thing. One minute, Cassie Gallagher is doing what she does, working her gig at The Landing Strip, trying to make enough to take her and her daughter away from the craziness of Vegas. The next thing she knows, after an unexpected night that she barely remembers, she’s someone’s wife. And that someone is none other than Beckett Cruz, hotter than sin alpha of the love ’em and leave ’em variety, and, well, Cassie’s boss. Yep. Both Cassie and Beck are eager to clean up their little problem, so getting a quick fix should take care of everything. Except for that one little hitch…

Oh, my gosh, Beckett Cruz. I knew that I was in trouble when he made his first appearance in STRIPPED BARE, the first book in the Stripped series by author Emma Hart. Sexy, smart, snarky, and an avowed ladies’ man, Beck is pretty much the whole package. It only stands to reason that Cassie can’t but help being pulled into his web. This man takes alpha to a whole new level, and, against her better judgement, Cassie’s along for the very satisfying ride.

Cassie’s life is made up of curveballs, but she’s doing the best that she can to stay in control. Raising her precocious and adorable daughter, CiCi, and dealing with her parents’ problems, all while trying to make enough to get them the heck out of Las Vegas, is too much sometimes. In that one weak moment, she takes solace in Beck, neither one of them expecting things to go the way that they do. But Cassie refuses to go all helpless female, and rebounds like nobody’s business. I love Emma’s style of writing. Her female characters are always smart and self-confident, trying to stand on their own even when working through the crap that life throws at them, and her male leads have awesome hearts underneath all their, well, manness. Cassie and Beckett are great examples of Emma couples, and I absolutely adore them.

This series is easily some of my favorite reading lately, and I happily recommend it to both long-time readers of Emma’s books as well as new fans. Another resounding 5+ ‘über-hot, laugh-out-loud, I love these characters and their lives’ stars for STRIPPED DOWN. These are books that you don’t want to miss, so grab them now, and enjoy the ride.

***ARC generously provided for an honest review.***

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By day, NeDSC_9249w York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies – usually wine – and writes books.

Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.

She likes to be busy – unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.

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Release Blitz: Even Better by Skye Warren – A Stripped Novella

EVEN BETTER BANNER

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Even Better

A Stripped Novella

By Skye Warren

Buy : Amazon / Amazon UK 

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Synopsis

 

A story about how coming together can break us apart…

 

An old military friend of Blue’s comes to stay with us, and suddenly I have two muscled men surrounding me. Before I can take a breath, we’re diving into something dirty together—something dangerous. Dangerous because three is a crowd.

 

This is Blue’s best friend, and one of us will have to leave.

 

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EVEN BETTER is a sexy follow up novella best read after BETTER WHEN IT HURTS. Fair warning: Contains two hot ex-military men and a girl caught in the middle.

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Excerpt

I expect West to laugh. They have a competitive camaraderie that is fun to be around. Except he doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even crack a smile. Instead his gaze drops to where Blue’s hand is on my ass. For the first time since he showed up, lust flashes across his face.

 

Nervous, I glance at Blue. He’s watching me, lids low, a dark expression on his face. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and I think he likes it. It’s some kind of tease, an extension of their friendly competitiveness, natural and somehow intimate.

 

So intimate it makes me wonder if they’ve ever done more than tease.

 

My eyes widen. “Have you and him ever…?”

 

The corner of Blue’s mouth lifts. “What’s that, beautiful?”

 

“You know,” I stammer. “Shared a girl.”

 

The words come out in a rush, and I know from the sultry, smug looks on their faces that I’m right. “Not shared,” Blue says. “Not exactly. But I watched sometimes, sure. We’d get a night off and head to the bar near base. There are, what? Two men for every woman there. Maybe more.”

 

“Some girls like an audience,” West says, the drawl in his voice more pronounced.

 

The room feels twenty degrees hotter as testosterone and arousal swirl in the air. I had no idea that Blue was kinky enough to watch a couple have sex—although he’s been plenty kinky in other ways with just me and him. I imagine being some girl in a bar, being picked up by two men as big and strong and sexy as these two. It’s overwhelming…and I realize I may not have to imagine it after all.

 

Blue watches me from slitted eyes.

 

My voice is shaking. “Did you want me to—”

 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, beautiful. We’re just getting to know each other, after all.”

 

It makes me wonder if he thinks I’ll do more once I know West better. It makes me wonder if I even want to do more. Of course West is a handsome man, but being shared? “Umm.”

 

Blue shifts in his chair slightly, so my leg is trapped around his, and I’m slightly more exposed—facing West fully. “Maybe we could give him something to see,” he murmurs. “A nice little memory to bring to bed with him. Would he like that?”

 

West is completely still, lean body full of tension. “Christ, yes.” He pushes back in his chair, his expression more pain than pleasure. “Only if you’re okay, Hannah. Only if…”

 

“I’m okay,” I say, stronger now. God, if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s to give a man a show. “I want to.”

 

Just like Blue and West think all they can do is fight, all I can do is dance. And this isn’t even dancing for strangers. This is dancing for the man I love—and his best friend.

 

Except dancing isn’t what Blue has in mind.

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STRIPPED series

The Stripped Series

Tough Love

Amazon / B & N

Love The Way You Lie

Amazon / B & N

Better When It Hurts

Amazon / B & N

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 About Skye Warren

Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of dark romance. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely tender. For those new to her work, consider the bestseller Wanderlust, Prisoner or the Dark Nights series starting with Trust in Me.

Website ~ Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Goodreads

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Happy Release: Love The Way You Lie by Skye Warren – Stripped Series – Book 1

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Love The Way You Lie

Stripped Series – Book 1

By Skye Warren

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Synopsis

A dark romance about the lies that lead us down…

I’ll do anything to get safe, even if that means working at the scariest club in town.

I’ll do anything to stay hidden, even if it means taking off my clothes for strangers.

I’ll do anything to be free. Except give him up. When he looks at me, I forget why I can’t have him. He’s beautiful and scarred. His body fits mine, filling the places where I’m hollow, rough where I am soft.

He’s the one man who wants to help, but he has his own agenda. He has questions I can’t answer. What are you afraid of?

You.

Buy: Amazon / B & N / ITunes

Excerpt

In the first moments onstage, I’m always blinded.

The bright lights, the smoke. The wall of sound that feels almost tangible, as if it’s trying to keep me out, push me back, protect me from what’s going to happen next. I’m used to the dancing and the catcalls and the reaching, grabbing hands—as much as I can be. But I’m never quite used to this moment, being blinded, feeling small.

I reach for the pole and find it, swinging my body around so the gauzy scrap of fabric flies up, giving the men near the stage a view of my ass. I still can’t quite make anything out. There are dark spots in my vision.

The smile’s not even a lie, not really. It’s a prop, like the four-inch heels and the wings that snap as I drop them to the stage.

Broken.

A few people clap from the back.

Now all that’s left is the thin satin fabric. I grip the pole and head into my routine, wrapping around, sliding off, and starting all over again. I lose myself in the physicality of it, going into the zone as if I were running a marathon. This is the best part, reveling in the burn of my muscles, the slide of the metal pole against my skin and the cold, angry rhythm of the song. It’s not like ballet, but it’s still a routine. Something solid, when very few things in my life are solid.

I finish on the pole and begin to work the stage, moving around so I can collect tips. I can see again, just barely, making out shadowy silhouettes in the chairs.

Not many.

There’s a regular on one side. I recognize him. Charlie. He tosses a five-dollar bill on the stage, and I bend down long and slow to pick it up. He gets a wink and a shimmy for his donation. As I’m straightening, I spot another man on the other side of the stage.

His posture is slouched, one leg kicked out, the other under his chair, but somehow I can tell he isn’t really relaxed. There’s tension in the long lines of his body. There’s power.

And that makes me nervous.

I spin away and shake my shit for the opposite side of the room, even though there’s barely anyone there. It’s only a matter of time before I need to face him again. But I don’t need to look at him. They don’t pay me to look them in the eye.

Still I can’t help but notice his leather boots and padded jacket. Did he ride a motorcycle? It seems like that kind of leather, the tough kind. Meant to withstand weather. Meant to protect the body from impact.

The song’s coming to a close, my routine is coming to an end and I’m glad about that. Something about this guy is throwing me off. Nothing noticeable. My feet and hands and knowing smile still land everywhere they need to. Muscle memory and all that. But I don’t like the way he watches me.

There’s patience in the way he watches me. And patience implies waiting.

It implies planning.

I reach back and unclasp my bra. I use one hand to cover my breasts while I toss the bra to the back of the stage. I pretend to be shy for a few seconds, and suddenly I feel shy too. Like I’m doing more than showing my breasts to strangers. I’m showing him. And as I stand there, hand cupping my breasts, breath coming fast, I feel his patience like a hot flame.

This time I do miss the beat. I let go on the next one, though, and my breasts are free, bared to the smoky air and the hungry eyes. There are a few whistles from around the room. Charlie holds up another five-dollar bill. I sway over to him and cock my hip, letting him shove the bill into my thong, feeling his hot, damp breath against my breast. He gets close but doesn’t touch. That’s Charlie. He tips and follows the rules, the best kind of customer.

I don’t even glance at the other side of the room. If the new guy is holding up a tip, I don’t even care. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who follows rules. I don’t know why I’m even thinking about him or letting him affect me. Maybe my run-in with Blue made me more skittish than I’d realized.

All I have left is my finale on the pole. I can get through this.

This part isn’t as physically strenuous as before. Or as long. All I really need to do is grind up against the pole, front and back, emphasizing my newly naked breasts, pretending to fuck.

That’s what I’m doing when I feel it. Feel him.

I’m a practical girl. I have to be. But there’s a feeling I get, a prickle on the back of my neck, a churning in my gut, a warning bell in my head when I’m near one of them. Near a cop. My eyes scan the back of the room, but all I can see are shadows. Is there a cop waiting to bust someone? A raid about to go down?

My gaze lands on the guy near the stage. Him? He doesn’t look like a cop. He doesn’t feel like a cop. But I don’t trust looks or feelings. All I can trust is the alarm blaring in my head: get out, get out, get out.

I can barely suck in enough air. There’s only smoke and rising panic. Blood races through me, speeding up my movements. A cop. I feel it like some kind of sixth sense.

Maybe he feels my intuition about him, because he leans forward in his seat.

In one heart-stopping moment, my eyes meet his. I can see his face then, drawn from charcoal shadows.

Beautiful, his lips say. All I can hear is the song.

I’m not even on beat anymore, and it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because there’s a cop here and I have to get out. Even if my intuition is wrong, it’s better to get out. Safer.

I’ll never be safe.

The last note calls for a curtsy—a sexy, mocking movement I choreographed into my routine. Like the one I’d do at the end of a ballet recital but made vulgar. I barely manage it this time, a rough jerk of my head and shoulders. Then I’m gone, off the stage, running down the hallway. I’m supposed to work the floor next, see who wants a lap dance or another drink, but I can’t do that. I head for the dressing room and throw on a T-shirt and sweatpants. I’ll tell them I feel sick and have to leave early. They won’t be happy and I’ll probably have to pay for it with my tips, but they won’t want me throwing up on the customers either.

I run for the door and almost slam into Blue.

He’s standing in the hallway again. Not slouching this time. There’s a new alertness to his stare. And something else—amusement.

“Going somewhere?” he asks.

“I have to… My stomach hurts. I feel sick.” I step close, praying he’ll move aside.

He reaches up to trace my cheek. “Aww, should I call the doctor?” His hand clamps down on my shoulder. “I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

I grip my bag tight to my chest, trying to ignore the threat in his words. And the threat in his grip. I really do feel sick now, but throwing up on him is definitely not going to help the situation. “Please, I need to leave. It’s serious. I’ll make it up later.”

He’ll know what I’m saying. That I’ll make it up to him personally. I’m just desperate enough to promise that. Desperate enough to promise him anything. And he’s harassed me long enough that I know it’s a decent prize. I’m sure he’ll make it extra humiliating, but I’m desperate enough for that too.

“Please let me go.” The words come out pained, my voice thin. It feels a little like my body is collapsing in on itself, steel beams bending together, something crushing me from the outside.

Regret flashes over his face, whether for refusing my offer or forcing me that low. But this time he doesn’t let me go. “There’s a customer asking for you. He wants a dance.”

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Free on Amazon

Tough Love- Prequel to Love The Way You Lie

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916CoiZB8vL._SL1500_A story about the sacrifices we make for love…

I sneak out of my room every night. My father’s guards don’t see me. My sister doesn’t see me.

No one sees me, except him.

He’s the son of a mafia foot soldier. My father is the boss. I shouldn’t even know Giovanni. And I definitely shouldn’t kiss him. Our relationship is doomed to fail, but that won’t stop me from trying.

Not every girl wants to be a princess. I just want to be free.

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About Skye Warren

Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of dark romance. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely tender. For those new to her work, consider the bestseller Wanderlust, Prisoner or the Dark Nights series starting with Trust in Me.

Website ~ Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Goodreads

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